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Thursday, January 24, 2013

Quartet

Dinner and a MovieThe Quartet at the Bar

By Steve Herte

I was really happy that the movie I wanted to see was showing at
the Paris Theater on 58th Street. It's a bit of old New York, a classy venue
with pearl gray velvet seats and matching curtain (yes, an actual curtain that
opens before the movie). It's not a mega-plex, only shows one movie at a time,
one has to wait a short time on the ticket-holders line and there are no
previews and no commercials. What a delight!

As much as the theater was nostalgic, the restaurant was a vision
of the future. So please enjoy the latest Dinner and a Movie.

As
I might have mentioned before, I go to the movies for entertainment. I do not
find current events entertaining. Otherwise I would spend more time watching
the news. Biographical and historic movies are rarely a source of interest for
me. Today’s “comedies” depend way too much on vulgarity to be truly funny and
the whole werewolf/vampire silliness is just a waste of time. That said, this
week the only movie attracting my attention was Quartet. Yes, I
know it’s not about a Barbershop quartet but you can see how the title caught
my eye.

I
love all forms of music, be it rock and roll, blues, jazz, country, classical
or opera and this movie (Dustin Hoffman’s directorial debut) is about music and
the way people feel about it. The setting is the Beecham Home for Retired
Musicians, a stately palatial residence on a hill surrounded by the beautiful
walled fields of the English countryside. The occupants are the elderly of the
professional opera, orchestras and musical theater. (I would love to retire to
this place.) Every day there is someone playing a cello or clarinet solo or
singing an aria or popular song from the Music Hall days. The rooms are elegant
and the lifestyle easy and dignified. Each year the residents perform in a
“gala” (this time to celebrate Giuseppi Verdi’s birthday) and sell tickets to
outsiders to defray the costs of running the establishment. Fortunately, many
of the retirees were famous in their time and are a draw to this annual show.

This
particular year is different, however, because it is the year that Jean Horton
(Maggie Smith) becomes a member of the august group. In her heyday she was a
member of a quartet that performed the most acclaimed version of the Quartet
from Rigoletto. The other three –
Wilfred Bond (Bill Connolly), Cecily “Cissy” Robson (Pauline Collins) and
Reginald Paget (Tom Courtenay) – are already ensconced in the Beecham Home and
everyone is abuzz about the new resident. Upon learning who it is, they all
gather on the balcony above the entry hall and applaud Jean as she walks in the
door. She’s delighted but prefers to keep to herself and stays in her room.

However,
not everyone is delighted that Jean has arrived. We learn that two marriages
ago she was married to Reggie for seven hours before she had a fling with Frank
White (Michael Byrne) and he has not forgotten it. He, on the other hand, never
married again. So what we have is a bittersweet love story of a couple rejoined
in their latter years and how they eventually rebuild their bridges and come to
forgive each other. Still it takes most of the movie to convince Jean that she
should rejoin the quartet and recreate that thrilling moment of musical
excellence.

Quartet is a charming tale
with beautiful scenery and some of the most wonderful pieces of music tying the
clever dialogue together. (The main melody to the quartet from Rigoletto is
played in several variations from time to time.) The acting is superb (as I
might have expected) and the lines are delivered clearly. I didn’t expect
suspense in this movie, but it was there nevertheless. Everything builds up to
the “gala” and whether or not “the quartet” would be the crowning performance,
right up to minutes before they are due onstage. At this point, Cissy has a
moment of dementia and has to be talked out of “going home” and into going on
with the act. I was nervous about whether Smith (or for that matter, any of the
four of them) would actually sing and yet I was a little disappointed when, to
tumultuous applause, the four lined up onstage and the scene tastefully changed
to an aerial view of the building and a quartet of seasoned professionals began
singing off camera at the end of the movie.

But
that was not why the film lost a half a martini glass. I don’t classify myself
as a prude but this movie was neither a gangster film nor a war film nor even a
low-class western and the “F” word had no place in it – much less twice. It
cheapened the whole tone of the movie. There are several colloquial expressions
Smith could have used after, “I’m going to say something quite rude to you.” Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Martini glasses.

One
thing I’ve noticed as my number of restaurants grows is that the choice of new
places in any one location shrinks proportionally. It took an hour to choose my
reservation. This one was too brightly lit, that one didn’t have enough choices
on the menu, another had uncomfortable-looking chairs…etc. At bar.vetro (that’s
the way they spell it – vetro means “glass” in Italian, supposedly
for the “floating” pale green glass near the ceiling) I found an Italian
restaurant that defied tradition. The décor is minimal – everything is silver
gray or black and white with small spot track lighting on the ceiling. The
crowd is quite young; in fact my presence significantly raised the median age,
whereas it lowered it at the theater.

The
manager greeted me at the door (there is no Captain’s station and no room for
one) and shook my hand, immediately turning it over to admire my rings before
having a girl check my coat and bag and leading me to my table. Even though the
table was small and the chair appeared to be made of cast aluminum, I was
comfortable. The noise level from the crowd in the one-room space was a bit
distracting – to the point of my absent-mindedly leaving off the word “martini”
in my drink order, but the waiter was savvy enough to know what I meant. It turned
out to be pretty good.

The
single-page menu is categorized into Bruschette (there are
four different toppings for the toasted Italian bread), Antipasti (appetizers), Primo
Piatto (pastas), Secondo Piatto (entrées), Contorni (sides), Insalate (salads),
and Per La Tavolo (for the table – shared sides). I saw two
pastas I liked and also noticed that there was a way to have both as a
combination. Upon the advice of Johnny (my waiter) that an appetizer, this
combination and a main dish would be too much food, I settled on the
combination and main dish only. My choice was Fusilli Calabrese –
tossed with fresh vegetables and Cavatelli with sausage,
cannellini beans and escarole. Both dishes were obviously homemade and fresh
because of the texture and al dente quality. Both were
delicious – the peppers, tomatoes and peas in one crisp and perfectly cooked
and the sausage crumbled just right in the other. My only comment was that the Fusilli was
really Strozzapreti (priest strangler pasta), two very different
looking pastas. Fusilli looks like spaghetti curled like a
pig’s tail and strozzapreti is a longer version of cavatelli,
a hand-rolled pasta. No complaints were made because they were both excellent.
At least they didn’t give me rotelli.

I
couldn’t believe they had Fontana Candida Frascati (2010) on the wine list. I
ordered that fresh, crisp Roman white for my meal remembering my first taste of
Frascati on my last trip to Rome. It was perfect with both pastas and was a
crowning achievement to my main course, Filet of Grouper prepared with a spicy
Fra Diavolo style tomato sauce and served with a twist of linguine. Since I
already had two pastas I had Johnny substitute spinach with garlic and
extra-virgin olive oil. The grouper was pure delight and yielded to the fork
nicely (no knife needed here) and the spinach tingled with garlic just as it
should.

What
to have for dessert, I wondered. Oh look! They have a combination dessert too!
I just had to choose the fluffy mound of milk chocolate mousse
side-by-side on a plate with another fluffy mound of zabaglione.
Normally I prefer fresh-made zabaglione (egg yolks, sugar and
Marsala wine whipped into a froth and poured over strawberries) warm, but this
pre-made fluff was still better than the chocolate (which was wonderful). Then
a double espresso and a nice glass of grappa, and I forgot that the restaurant
looked like the inside of my freezer compartment. I was even entertained by the
conversation at the table behind me. One man ordered Blackfish and wondered what
it was. The other told him it was Black Sea Bass. I had to chuckle – two very
different fish.